14 February 2011

What More?

I always said I would know where to find love. In spite all that has happened, I always thought by now, I would be stronger. My world was changed, but once before I unwillingly let go...

They say without love the flowers would have no colors. Without love the sun would be without warmth.  I told myself , the saying is true.  On this special occasion Valentine Day, I felt rather dried up, like a lumber in dry season. Though I received couple of lovely messages over the night that was enough to make one happy. Yes it did make me happy, but not excited! Deep down I was shattered, broken, bitter. I am a damaged woman. The little peace I was able to muster over the time, slowly ebb away, because it has been tainted with fear, betrayal, grief severally. Though couple of times, I tried to revive it. But what happens to crop that is not nurtured? It withers, before the harvest time. I wonder if I would ever know true happiness as I had many times let people find it in me. True happiness; true love, I wonder if the candle that burns on watch for it to come would still be in its pewter holder by the time it finds me, or burned out. I could not even bring myself to much tears as usual, meaning I am so spent up!

Life. Very mystique!  While I was growing up I saw Aunties prayed, cried for a life partner. And as a stupid child that I was at the time who had no vague clue about the life she is growing up in, I told myself, that was bullshit!  All you need do is pursue your career, continue being beautiful and all the men in the world will follow and stay faithful to you. But now I know better. I know bitter. I learned in a terrible hard ways. Even though I have always looked not with my eyes, but searched with my soul. The harmless soul that is now weary. At this point in my life, I have seen it all! I want no more. Because what MORE or than grief?

I'm gonna carry my cross, look for that friend that lies still inside of me, breath her in, breath her out and breath her in again and travel the rest of the journey with her. Shut out my heart that speaks incessantly in favor of others. No more final attempt.
"Hold on, hold on. Do give him a chance. You never could tell, he just might be the man you have been waiting for."
No more back and forth argument in my mind. I was done long time ago, lost! I was rescued somewhat, but my knife still landed on the face. 

In spite all this misfortune, I kept giving my heart, trust and love in totality. Rather than find peace, I was done in. My first name is Done... my middle name, Give up... and my surname is what is More...

11 February 2011


 The woman drew back, surprised by the child's rage. The child stood up speechless momentarily as the full meaning of all the woman had been saying dawned on her. Those vein traits in her mother were the same in her elder sister.
"You would not be the first to be abandoned by a mother. She was also neglected by her own mother," the woman continued. "You've been raving since you arrived yesterday, I'm afraid it has to stop. I can't take it any longer! What did you expect me to do? Cuddle you for taking your damn father to your mother's White husband' house.? I can't believe you wanted to ruin her happiness!"
That was not true! In what language hasn't she tried to tell this woman who she knew not before this past two days. What does this woman thought her father was, by the way? And how dare she reduced her to dirt. Who the heck was her younger sister that she framed this sort of degrading lies around her and her father?

 Cecil stared intently down into the woman's eyes. "You mean to say that it doesn't matter that your sister abandoned a three month old baby that is almost thirty years of age now, and have to be going about saying diminishing things about us?"
"Maybe," woman snapped. "Of course not. I -" she broke off knowing she had really messed up.
Cecil's mouth fell opened,  and her steely honey gaze melted into the ugly, bleached, woman's face. They stood still for several minutes, actions dancing round in their heads.

Something unexpected passed between them, something that caused everything else to slip away in a gloom several minutes. One could call it unresolvable hatred. Cecil wanted desperately to reach out and strangled the woman. And yet she didn't dare. It frightened her as much as it attracted her...

Cecil saw her life as an unplanned and disorganized one, but others rarely saw it that way. All they saw was a spoiled , comfortable, brat who had all the love in the world and a perfect life. But somehow it is their illusion that has somewhat given her life its purpose and focus. It was only her career that she could count on, and it had never let her down. Even though it had left her alone a good deal of time, she had never let anything interfere with it. And never will. With all the past tragic memories of a mother she had only briefly set her eyes on, on a few occasion; now here, she stood locked in steaming gaze with the elder sister.
Everything didn't quite connect. Was this the woman who had told the whole of the mother's family, that she had been the one avoiding her, that if only she could just pay her a visit, she would give her the world?  Cecil frowned trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together just then, the woman dropped yet another bombshell.
"Please, stop saying Jesus Christ of Nazareth in my house. This is not His dwelling." 
This was the woman that claimed over the weekend that she was at the Redeem Camp Ground for the Holy Ghost Service. 
Shattered, Cecil moved from the spot she was standing, walked some pace, then sat down shaking. After several minutes, she picked up her big handbag and started shoving her things inside. The woman really had burned her up.

Mm. The sound she made was an expression of deep grief, regret, unanswered questions in her injured heart. For a very long time some of her mother’s siblings  had been troubling her to go onto this wicked woman who was in possession of her mother’s property. But was that how it all began? No. The grandmother happened to have the six of them for different five husbands. Her own  mother and the elder sister had a very wealthy father, who did not send any of his girl child to school no matter how bright or brilliant the child was. Today, is not the day of  story narration.

With heart heavy as rock, Cecil got on a public bus back home. Despite the bustling around her, her tears poured unheeded. As she made her way back home, she tried to collect her thoughts together, gathered her wits, and tried to ask herself why she had to be the one to come through such … she couldn’t find the right word. 
"Why did her father choose such a woman, from such a family to be her mother? She questioned quietly.
She remained seated in a daze for the remainder of her journey back home.

Now in her home, with the door shut behind her, shoes flying about with the handbag, slumped in the bed, she wept bitterly until there was no water yielding to her grief.

If only we really could choose our own family, Cecil would start her life afresh with a new birth... 

Red Heart

I would help people out of their binds. I would throw in an extra effort to make sure that the naked is clothed. That wasn't just a promise she made herself for the future when she finally reached the haven of her dreams. Like some would say that today would determine what tomorrow shall look like, she has started helping people out in need, today. She could give her eyes. She noticed her generosity was to a fault, her friends complained always.

On the other end, the phone was ringing but no one would answer it.
The call was eventually answered.
"Uncle it's I, Anne."
But the Uncle kept saying hello as though he could not hear her. The line clicked and went dead. Sighing with frustration, Anne dropped her cell phone. She breathed a huge sigh drawing a sharp breath over and over again, and sat down heavily on her bed.

It was not the first favor she had asked the Uncle to oblige her without positive result, but she prayed it would be the last. But it wasn't really that, that bothered her. Rather, what could be behind all her ill lucks.
"Exactly how much do we have to sacrifice before there is an open door of breakthrough to the Promise Land?
Shouldn't the numbers count? The days we would spend on earth before we are suddenly cut off?" 
She shouted at the ceiling, a rebel to God her Creator. There was absolutely no point being in her sort of calling, unless one is going to be perfectly serious and totally committed.
"It's the price you are meant to pay, darling" A voice whispered in her head. She has tried to tell herself that, many times, but she did not really know anymore.

The contest, the chance she had been waiting for almost all her life, to be able to take a stand. It was almost closing. Everything has failed. She could not save her dreams, after all the sleepiness nights, emptied tummy of sowing into the future, while her peers were busy with boyfriends, clubbing! The playing days was almost over for her, yet she could not recollect any social life that she would say she had, had. Nor could she break out of her confinement just now, as much as wished. Hot tears sprang to her eyes, and in vain she tried to order them back.

"How dare life treated her like this?" she manged to say between her tears. She was broken absolutely, but she was not dettered. Never...

They say there is never night in God's Land of Mercy. Now, Anne believed in the saying. The hand of clock on her bedroom wall ticked away slowly, to her, it was all over. But to the God who formed her and could see each tear that traced down her cheek, ways began to open. The people she could never thought could assist her, stood up for her help. Amazingly, one of them trusted her with his foreign account to do whatever, she wanted to do.

Mm. Dara say after all, weather or not we believe in Him,  He remains faithful to us. If only we could stay without being worried when there is no answer to her requests yet, without fear, rebelling to God in our test and trials. How marvelous is our Savior's love for us.